I've Got You
by listrant
Summary: Mythea. Anthea wants more from her relationship with her boss, but Mycroft wants more for her. Warning: Smutty. Secondary pairing: Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

Anthea took a deep breath and prepared for battle: she refreshed her lipstick, took off her suit jacket, popped another button on her shirt, and hiked her skirt up a bit. Then she grabbed the freshly printed pages off the machine, stuck them in a file folder, and went over to knock on the door to her boss's office.

"Come in, my dear," Mycroft called, and Anthea flung the door open and strutted up to his desk.

"The files on the Tehran incident," Anthea said, as she handed the folder across the desk. Mycroft flipped it open and immediately began scanning the pages, muttering an absentminded "thank you" under his breath.

"And the eagle called. Your brother's had a visit from the ambassador of Spain. How should we handle it?" Anthea rounded the desk as she spoke, turning to lean up against the desk beside her employer.

"Ignore it. There's government prints all over that case. Sherlock will see that and quickly abandon it. He's not in the business of politics…serious politics that is," Mycroft murmured, still not bothering to look up. Anthea leaned over the back of Mycroft's chair, as if to read over his shoulder. Of course, she wasn't reading the forms; she'd already done so.

"They're bluffing," she purred in his ear. "They can't have more than 5…6 men at most. Hardly an international threat. Leave it to the local authorities and follow up in a month?"

Mycroft turned to look at her and pulled back a bit when he realized how close she was. There was a long moment of silence as they made eye contact.

"Yes…" Mycroft finally answered. "My…thoughts exactly. As usual, you've anticipated me."

"I'd like to do more than that to you…" Anthea responded with a quiet confidence.

"Anthea…please…" Mycroft sighed. "We've had this discussion." Anthea straightened up suddenly and stared down at him.

"No. You want me. I can tell. Your face is getting flushed, your breathings accelerated…look me in the eyes and tell me your heart isn't pounding," Anthea challenged.

Mycroft only sighed again as he tossed the folder on to the desk top and began to rub his temples.

"You're stressed and tired. You've been spending 18 hours a day in this place. The last thing you need is sexual frustration. So _why_? Why do you insist on doing this to yourself? To us?" Anthea spun around paced back and forth a few steps.

"It's not appropriate…" Mycroft murmured.

"We're two consenting, unattached adults who want eachother. What's inappropriate about that?"

"You're young and impulsive. You don't know what you want. You spend all day and all night shut up in here with me…you see the powerful man behind the desk and you decide you're in love with him…I won't take advantage of that."

"No. I know what I want. I'm 23; I'm not a child! And I don't give a damn about the power or the man behind the desk…most of the time he bloody well pisses me off. Why can't you accept that I want you for you?" Anthea's tone wasn't desperate, it was more angry frustration.

"Anthea…" Mycroft got up from his chair, at an obvious loss for words. Anthea took advantage of his hestitation, pressing against him and capturing his lips in a frantic kiss. Mycroft tried to gently push her away, but was distracted by the hand which she pressed to the growing hardness at the front of his trousers. He gasped slightly and forgot himself for a moment, returning her kiss, but when she started to stroke him through the smooth fabric, he pulled away sharply, quickly moving to put a few feet of space between them.

"No…Anthea, this is wrong," he said firmly. "I won't. I won't do it."

"But you want me. You want me too," she insisted, her eyes becoming glassy with tears.

"Of course I want you," Mycroft admitted in a gentler tone.

"Then why?"

"My darling, you're two decades younger…and I'm your boss…and I won't…keep you from the future that you deserve."

"I want a future with you."

"You're gorgeous, incredibly intelligent…you cou-"

"Don't!" Anthea cut him off sharply. "Don't you dare tell me I could have anyone I wanted. Because obviously that isn't true, is it?"

Mycroft sighed and tore at his tie. "Why must you make this so hard for me?"

"_I'm_ making it hard? _I _am?"

Mycroft grimaced and glanced down.

"In more ways than one, I'm afraid," he joked with a humorless smile.

"Then let me…" Anthea began to cross he distance between them.

"No. Get out! Anthea, out! Right now!" Mycroft ordered, turning his back on her.

"Mycroft-"

"I said, get out!"

"Fine!" Anthea turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her. Mycroft sighed as he listened to the sound of her receding footsteps. She was leaving the office, probably heading to the 6th floor to consult with her friend Jessica, a paralegal. He felt bad for shouting at her, but he'd been so close to his breaking point, so close to just giving in, unzipping his trousers and letting her win.

It had become the most difficult problem he'd ever had to face…what to about his secretary, his Anthea. He ought to let her go, send her away to work in some other branch of the government, for some other man, but he couldn't bear the thought of it, couldn't bear to be without her. She was the one ray of sunshine in an otherwise dull, dreary, and depressing existence. She was right of course: he desired her, he wanted her, he loved her. And that was why he couldn't take her. She deserved better and he wasn't going to let her throw that away. At least not yet…but he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Mycroft was enduring a long and painful limousine ride. Anthea had been giving him the silent treatment since their row…which wasn't to say she'd been silent. She spoke of course, when she had to: rattling off the information as it came in, answering his questions, transferring his calls. Calling him Mr. Holmes. Lord, how he hated when she called him Mr. Holmes. And she knew it. She knew everything about him. Which was why he hadn't had a decent cup of coffee in days and the morning paper had mysteriously gone missing today. Anthea knew just how to punish him, to push all of his buttons, and make his life miserable.

He thought about his conversation with Lestrade at the bar last night.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" his friend had asked. "She's young and hot and panting for you and you're turning her away?"

And his brother's taunting remarks a few weeks back.

"Still haven't popped the cork, I see. Do us all a favor and get off your high horse before you explode. It'll ruin the carpet and Mrs. Hudson will be displeased."

It would be so much easier to take their advice. Easy, but wrong, he reminded himself.

"Mr. Holmes, the prime minister is apparently at his country estate and insists that you meet with him there. Its 50 minutes outside the city. Shall I tell the driver?" Anthea asked regally.

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose there's no help for it."

Anthea slid to the front of the car and Mycroft found himself transfixed as she lowered the privacy window and leaned over to speak with the driver. Her firm buttocks were displayed so nicely in the skin tight pencil skirt she wore, which also showed off the gentle curve of her hips and her trim thighs. His eyes ran down the seam on the back of her black tights, and he felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and straighten it out where it had bent slightly just above the ankle on her right leg. As always, she wore sky high louboutins, unmistakable now with the bright red soles exposed to him.

Anthea returned to her seat and Mycroft opened his window, hoping the cold air would serve the dual purpose of cooling his desire and sweeping the alluring scent of her perfume out of the car.

A few minutes of silence passed and then he noticed Anthea was shivering slightly and gritting her teeth. He slid the window shut and the cabin suddenly seemed deathly quiet.

"With the way you've been acting lately, I should have left it open and let you freeze," Mycroft bit out.

"The way I've been acting? I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Holmes."

"Don't call me that."

"What should I call you then?"

"Mycroft, as always."

"You're two decades older than me, and also my boss," Anthea spit his own words back at him. "I really don't think that would be _appropriate_, do you?"

"Anthea…" Mycroft warned, feeling himself reaching the limit of his patience. It had been an infuriating 48 hours and the prime minister's selfishness was the final nail in the coffin.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?" Anthea chirped, with false enthusiasm.

"Stop."

"Stop what, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft grabbed Anthea and dragged her into his lap, running a hand up her stocking-clad leg.

"Fine. Is this what you want?" Mycroft kissed her, his lips ripping hers open harshly. "You want me to violate you in the back of limousine? You want to suck me off in the car 20 minutes before I meet the leader of this country over cocktails?" Mycroft wasn't sure where that came from. He was tired and frustrated…he hadn't meant it as a serious proposition.

"Yes!" Anthea gasped, twisting to straddle his hips and attaching her lips to his throat. She pulled his hands to her breasts as she ground against his lap and sucked on his neck. It was just too much. Mycroft moaned.

"Anthea…" he called lamely.

"Yes, Mycroft?" She asked breathlessly, her fingers quickly undoing the buttons of her shirt as she continued to rock and wriggle in his lap.

"Stop…wait…stop…I didn't mean…" he pleaded, but she was already pulling her arms out of the shirt and he felt paralyzed, unable to look away from her chest as she reached behind her to undo the clasp on her light pink bra. It was embellished with lace and a little gemstone charm in the middle and it was the most feminine thing he'd seen in years.

It was reflex, undeniable reflex to reach and out and cup her breasts as they spilled from the fabric. At least that's what he told himself. Anthea moaned and arched her back, offering herself up to him even more fully and he wondered if she'd ever been a stripper because this was the best lap dance he'd ever had. Anthea's lips returned to his and it was impossible not to kiss her back. So he did. Gently and slowly and sweetly. Teasing his tongue into her mouth for a second and nipping her bottom lip between his own. The way he'd always imagined kissing her, the way their first kiss should have been. All the while Anthea kept up a steady rhythm, grinding her pelvis against his, just his trousers and the thin layers of her tights and knickers between them. Her skirt had apparently been pulled up around her waist at some point. By who, he couldn't be certain.

Anthea pulled away and slipped down to her knees on the floor between his feet.

"No…darling…really I didn't mean for you…" Mycroft blurted, but Anthea's hands were already on his belt. Now the buttons. Now the zipper. She moved so fast and somehow it felt too late to stop. No choice but to follow this through to the inevitable conclusion. Deal with the consequences later. This was a car built for containing government secrets, it was entirely soundproof, but Mycroft still spared a nervous glance toward the back of the drivers head. Anthea noticed, since she'd just glanced up to gauge his reaction to her fingers wrapping around him for the first time.

"He can't," She assured him. "You know that he can't. Remember that time he locked us in? We screamed our heads off…nothing…" He felt her warm breath on his cock as she spoke; the car was still slightly chilled from his opening the window. How long ago was that? It seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes.

"Hmmm…" Mycroft murmured, allowing himself to relax back against the seat as her lips wrapped around him and she began to bob up and down.

And she did everything just right. It really wasn't surprising to him at all. She always did. It was uncanny, impossible, the way she always knew just what he'd like. She'd order for him at restaurants, pick out art for the office…and everything was always exactly his taste. And now she used just the right amount of pressure, went at just the right speed. It wasn't long before he was teetering on the edge of insanity.

"Thea…" he whispered in warning, happy now that he'd reserved the nickname for only the most intimate of moments. Her birthday and the time they'd narrowly escaped death in Baghdad. In response, Anthea reached up and squeezed his hand with one of hers, her other hand being otherwise engaged below her lips. He came almost silently, but she moaned softly as she swallowed it down.

Anthea climbed back up on the seat beside him, wrapping her arms around him and placing gentle kisses along his throat as he sat back, eyes closed, while he slowly caught his breath. Anthea got up after a few moments and began rifling through her giant purse.

"Lucky for you, I've learned to come prepared when we go anywhere," she said, pulling a hand towel out of her purse and wiping her mouth on it, before tossing it to him.

"You. are. Amazing," Mycroft answered, making it clear he was referring to more than the piece of cloth. "I'd be lost without you."

"I know," Anthea teased, pulling her bra and top back on and her twisting her skirt back into place. Mycroft cleaned up as well as possible and watched as she slipped her heels back on. He hadn't noticed them falling off. Finally, she pulled a compact mirror and a little wet wipe from her purse and fixed her terribly smeared lipstick. She glanced at her watch and then over at Mycroft.

"About 10 more minutes…oh…your neck," she murmured, pulling a new wet wipe from her purse and rubbing on his throat. Then she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it back into place, and straightened his tie. Finally she brushed a piece of lint off his trousers.

"Not a mark on them. Not even wrinkled," she said, proudly. "I _was_ careful."

"I feel like you're my mother," Mycroft blurted and her eye brows shot up.

"No!...I just mean…the way you're cleaning me up…"

Anthea snorted sarcastically, but she was smiling and blushing slightly.

"Well somebody has to…you're meeting with the prime minister, after all…" She teased, but quickly changed her tone when she noticed the worry flash across his face.

"Don't worry…he'll be none the wiser…I can't tell, so he definitely won't be able to. No one…apart from your brother….and he won't be there to rat you out."

The car slowed down and pulled into a long tree lined lane. Just a few more minutes now. Mycroft felt the urge to tell her something, to let her know that just because she'd won the battle, didn't mean she'd won the war. But there was so little time…how to put it?

"Anthea…" he began.

"Yes?"

"This doesn't mean we…I haven't changed my mind."

"Oh…of course. I know that," Anthea replied, but she looked stricken.

"Thea...I'm sorry," Mycroft reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. He wanted to say more, but they were out of time. The car had come to a stop before the steps of a large limestone façade. Anthea's transition from personal to professional was instantaneous.

"Don't forget to mention the United Nations issue. The files are in the top pocket of your brief case. And for god's sake, don't let him talk you into taking on another overseas investigation, we're swamped as it is," she briefed him quickly. The door swung open.

"Prime Minister," Mycroft greeted warmly.

* * *

So I guess that was officially the first smut I've ever posted. _Woohoo_. Tell me what you thought?


	3. Chapter 3

"Infuriating bastards! I am done, Molly! I am so done with this family! And you should be too!" Anthea's voice was angry, but Molly Hooper could see the extra shine in her eyes of suppressed tears. Her heart broke for her younger friend. She knew the kind of exquisite pain that the Holmes brothers could inflict on the people who cared for them.

"You don't mean that," Molly urged quietly.

"I do," Anthea insisted, her heels clacking on the linoleum as she paced back in forth in the morgue. She'd come to visit Molly at work. It was an occurrence that had been happening more and more often lately…it seemed to Molly that Mycroft and Anthea's relationship was finally coming to a head. The point of no return. Things would either go one way or the other. Molly remembered when she'd reached that point with Sherlock. She hoped his brother and Anthea would come out on the other side of it together, the way they had.

"They don't mean to be cruel," Molly finally said.

"They do! We deserve better!"

"Yes, but we don't _want_ better. We want them. And Sherlock's…he's…he's doing better now…"

"He left for a case on your birthday!" Anthea rolled her eyes as she made the accusation.

"Yes, but he made it up to me later."

"How?"

Molly turned a deep shade of scarlet and Anthea snorted.

"I see. Nice to hear that that tongue of his is good for something other than all of that incessant yapping about irrelevant things," Anthea grumbled.

"Anthea!"

Anthea made a face and pulled her back rigid, adopting a deep voice. "That mud on your shoes is slightly orange and also half dry, you've obviously been to the south of France, but not for sunbathing. No tan lines. You must have been shopping. For clothes apparently since there's a crease on your left shoulder. And also you had a scone and two cups of coffee this morning and your mother's name is Martha and you have an overfed pet goldfish." Anthea smirked as she finished the impression.

"No, you're awful!" Molly protested, but she was giggling anyway.

"It's true!" Anthea insisted.

"Oh yeah? Well, I can do yours. He is _just_ as ridiculous!" Molly replied, screwing her face up into a displeased look and adopting a haughty tone.

"Brothaaah…you need to take this case, but I can't tell you a thing about it because it's all _top secret_…you know…special orders from the queen. I'd take it myself, but, you know, it requires…walking…on a crowded public street. And I might have to talk to some…peasants. Oh the horror. And I'm just so…busy running England. Oh…are those biscuits I smell, Mrs. Hudson?" Molly twirled her arm as if to spin an invisible umbrella.

"HA! You're being too kind, Molly!" Anthea answered with a bitter laugh. "It's more like 'I'm going to call you 'my darling' and 'my dear' and 'my love' and every other endearment in the book and give you red roses and diamonds on holidays and hold you in my arms when you're upset and send you hungry looks 8 times a day and allow a man to be executed because he once tried to rape you…but for god's sake don't fall in love with me or think of me as anything other than your boss because this relationship is strictly professional, _my love_.'"

Molly sighed. "Anthea, I'm sorry. I know how you feel."

"I know you do. That's why I'm here. Nobody else understands…my other friends are great, but how do you explain the Holmes brothers to women who are used to dealing only with ordinary men?"

Molly shook her head. "With Sherlock…everything is so much harder…but I can't imagine being with anybody else."

"_You_ don't have to."

"You don't either," Molly assured her. "He'll come around. It's obvious how much he cares about you; he's just not ready to admit it. If it makes you feel better, the boys have got a bet going…how long before he cracks, you know. Sherlock's in for a hundred quid."

Anthea's eyebrows shot up.

Molly smiled as she went on. "He says it's over in a fortnight."

* * *

Anthea felt her boss come up behind her even before she heard him sigh.

"Richards is being a prick. He says, 'put it in writing'. But I've been called in to the House of Lords for the rest of the afternoon. Could you, dearest?

"Of course…and I'll email it to you…?" Anthea answered absentmindedly; she was busy carefully highlighting the suspicious figures on a spreadsheet.

"Perfect…" Mycroft murmured, running a hand over the back of her neck. It was rarely exposed since she typically wore her hair down, but the weather had become unbearably hot and she had it pulled up in a ponytail today. Mycroft began tracing shapes on the sensitive skin and Anthea couldn't resist the shiver that ran down her spine as some of his fingers slipped below her shirt collar.

"Mycroft!" she half-gasped, completely losing her place on the page in front of her. She felt more than heard Mycroft's short chuckle.

"Anyway that's it. I'm afraid I've got to go." Mycroft pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he pulled away. "Don't forget to eat something, my dear, you look faint," he went on, before sweeping out the door.

Anthea groaned with frustration and tossed the papers down on the desk.

So he was going to play it that way, was he? Two could play that game.

* * *

Mycroft glanced down at his phone in boredom as he listened to the speaker drone on about foreign policy. He was surprised to find that Anthea had sent him not only the email he'd requested, but also a text. He opened it.

_I'm sitting at your desk…touching myself. -A_

Mycroft gulped.

_What?-Myc._

She responded with a picture message. Her high heeled feet up on his desk, spread open, no stockings.

_Where are your stockings?-Myc._

Another picture message. Apparently they were draped over his lamp.

_Anthea, I'm in the House of Lords-Myc._

Yet another picture message. Her bra on the plush carpet.

_And I'm soaking-A_

_Christ.-Myc._

_If you were here, I wouldn't let you touch. I'd make you watch. No touching yourself either. I bet you want to right now…and you can't there either.-A_

_This is so erotic…I've always wanted to do this…of course in my fantasy, you're usually here with me. But this is doing me fine…this chair smells like you.-A_

_It couldn't possibly. It's leather.-Myc._

_It does.-A_

_Why are you doing this?-Myc._

_It's your fault. The way you touched me earlier, your hands on my neck. That's all you have to do and I want you so badly.-A_

_I'm sorry-Myc._

_Excuse me, I need both my hands for this.-A_

Mycroft tried to slow his racing blood, to concentrate on the business at hand, rather than in her hands, but it was impossible. He had to admit he was desperately aroused. And rather concerned about how he was going to get up from his seat without exposing himself. A few minutes later, another message popped up.

_I feel so much better now. How bout you?-A_

_I'm not amused, Anthea-Myc._

_Good. That's not the feeling I was going for-A_

_We'll talk about this later-Myc._

_Whatever you say, Mr. Holmes-A_

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably in his seat. That woman would be the death of him. She'd kill him. And he'd like it.

* * *

"It was completely…inappropriate," Mycroft scolded his assistant when they were together again a few hours later. It was 9 o'clock at night and they'd been working for more than 12 hours now, but Mycroft had gotten a call about a situation they'd been monitoring in South America. Things had fallen apart and so he'd gone straight from the House of Lords to the airport, stopping only to pick up Anthea at the office. She'd gone back to his house and packed for them both.

"What if someone had seen my…screen? Or walked in on you?" he went on.

"I locked the door. And you're just mad because it worked and you don't like the taste of your own medicine," Anthea responded, keeping her eyes fixed on the world blurring by outside the car window.

"If you don't want me to treat you like a child, you ought to stop acting like one!"

"I'm not the one being childish. This whole situation is utterly ridiculous. I was merely trying to show you that." Anthea's voice was as confident as ever, but Mycroft knew his words had affected her by the way the color had risen in her cheeks ever so slightly.

"Yes, well there's no room for that on this trip, do you understand? I can't afford to be distracted, not even for an instant. Especially not now that I have to watch out for you. You shouldn't even be coming in the first place," Mycroft grumbled as they stepped out of the car and started to approach the small jet sitting across the tarmac. At the set of stairs they ran into Sherlock and Molly, who'd been approaching through the darkness from the opposite angle.

"Sherlock. Dr. Hooper," Mycroft said by way of greeting.

"Mycroft. Anthea." His brother matched his tone.

"Hey Anthea," Molly called warmly.

"How's it going, Molls? I didn't expect to see you here. Where's Dr. Watson?"

"He refused to come for fear his wife would go into labor while we're away," Sherlock answered, with barely concealed irritation. "Molly insisted…" he added apologetically to Mycroft. Mycroft only shrugged and gestured to Anthea before starting up the stairs to the plane.

"Have you heard from the plant?" Sherlock asked, following after him.

"Not in over 24 hours," Mycroft called over his shoulder.

"Compromised?"

"Let's hope not."

"I don't like that."

"It's less than ideal…" The men's voices faded away as they moved onto the aircraft and Anthea and Molly linked arms as they followed after.

"How's Mary?" Anthea asked.

"She's fine. Wonderful. Blissfully happy. I really hope we're back for the birth. She's not due for a week, but you know John."

Anthea laughed, "Yes. Yes I do."

"How are _you_?" Molly asked her friend. Anthea widened her eyes pointedly as they moved past the brothers, seated at a table near the front, bickering over some figures on a computer screen. Molly and Anthea took seats on a sofa in the back half of the plane, which was separated from the front by a sliding door.

"Not good huh?" Molly continued, as the door slid shut behind them.

"Well you know…he's still…I'm too young and he can't take advantage…yadda yadda," Anthea rolled her eyes as she finished.

"You're not that much younger than me."

"Yes, but Mycroft's older than Sherlock. Who's older than you. Who's older than me. It all adds up in a rather ghastly way, I'm afraid. Not that it matters to me."

"There are some advantages to your age…does he want kids?"

Anthea shrugged. "The iceman? How should I know? Does Sherlock?"

Molly blushed and smiled as her hand reflexively drifted to her belly.

"Yes. Thank god."

"No!" Anthea gasped. "You are right now?!"

Molly's smile widened as she nodded.

"Does he know?" Anthea lowered her voice. Molly shook her head.

"I wouldn't be here if he did. I was going to…and then Mycroft called…and John refused…I couldn't let him go alone. I'd have done nothing but worry…and then I thought maybe…the tropics…might be the perfect place to…"

Anthea's eyes widened and she glanced toward the door separating them from the others.

"Oh Molls…I don't know if you'll get a chance…it's…" Anthea murmured, recalling Mycroft's earlier warning. "I think it might be…are you sure you should be here?"

"I just found out yesterday. I'm no more fragile than you are…"

"Yes, but…still…I think maybe…" Anthea stood up, but it was too late. The plane was taking off. _Shit._

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Molly responded with her usual optimism. "We'll just stay out of the way…"

"Yeah…" Anthea bit her lip uncertainly.

* * *

Molly quickly fell asleep and Anthea, too anxious now to relax, went up to join the men. She wondered if she should tell them about Molly. But then, it really wasn't her secret to tell. And maybe Mycroft had been exaggerating the potential danger just to get her off his back. She hated to ruin Molly's surprise if that was the case.

Both brothers looked up when she approached, Sherlock with a question in his eyes.

"Molly's asleep," she offered, and Sherlock shrugged and went back to the computer screen as if he hadn't asked.

Anthea slid into a seat beside Mycroft, who was reading a lengthy document, as always.

"We're uhm…we're going to Columbia to…pick someone up, right?" she asked, aiming for a casual tone.

"Mhmm…" Mycroft answered distractedly, his eyes still on the page.

"Mycroft?" Anthea hadn't meant for his name to come out in such a high, panicky tone, but it did and it got his attention immediately.

"What's wrong?" He was searching her eyes now. Anthea spared a glance at Sherlock, who was seated a few feet away. He didn't appear to be paying them a bit of attention, but Anthea knew the Holmes brothers and she knew he was registering every word.

"Did you mean what you said? Before we got on the plane? About distractions?"

"Yes. So please. Can we agree to postpone that…discussion until we're back on British soil?"

Anthea nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"Maybe…maybe Molly and I could…wait on the plane or…somewhere…safer?" Anthea asked quietly, but she noticed that she had Sherlock's full attention now regardless. Sherlock and Mycroft shared a glance, the meaning of which was known only to them.

"The safest place for you both will be with us. Where is this coming from? You've never been…afraid in these situations before. Did Dr. Hooper say something…?" Mycroft asked.

Anthea shook head quickly. "No…no, nothing. I just…what you said earlier…"

"I didn't mean to frighten you, my dear. I only meant to express that we'll need to take this seriously, or else things could get dangerous."

"Oh…uh huh…ok. Well…I'll go check on Molly," Anthea mumbled, before getting up and making a hasty retreat.

* * *

_I really want to say thank you so much to these people who have been supportive and lovely:__** Clarice82**__ on tumblr (I decided to update today because of her sweet comments), __**Chaosisblue**__ (Nice to meet you and I hope you liked this chapter!), and the other people who've left reviews: __**Rocking The Redhead, mindy blaydes , Sam, Cocoagirl3, racveq, crooney83, and The Love Club.**_

_I would love love love to hear what you all thought of this chapter!_


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